Great Mother Or All will be one with Russia
by Sidnere
Summary: They say that it's impossible – to win a victory over Russia. Of course, it is not true. There were those who defeated him, who seized his land, his capital. But somehow all of they retreated at the last moment before destroying Russia. Why?


Great Mother

Or

All will be one with Russia.

Pairing: America / Fem! Russia, mention: Prussia / Fem! Russia, France / Fem! Russia, Lithuania / Fem! Russia, Poland / Fem! Russia, Golden Horde / Fem! Russia, Khanate of Kazan / Fem! Russia.

Author's note:

This story is based on Russia's image, which widespread in philosophy of history, propaganda and fiction. It like mixture of images of Sleeping Beauty- the Swan-Maiden - doting mother- fatal female - the Sphinx - witches -"black widow". Title of the fic is such a because also this image is similar in the functions with image of pagan goddess the Great Mother / Mother Earth, who springs and nourishes all living things and, sooner or later, all her children return into her womb. And so the Great Mother is the Queen of the deadmen's world also.

The fact that Russia is a disguised woman it is an "open secret" for most of the countries. They just prefer to be silent on it. For America it is the ordinary secret.

And I'm sorry for probable mistakes. English isn't my native-language.

Great Mother

Or

All will be one with Russia.

She is the Queen of Heaven, Mother of the Gods, who opens the Door; the keeper of the keys of fertility and the gates of birth, death and resurrection. She is the fatal weaver, because all of the Great Mothers are weavers or spinners, weaving the web of fate. It symbolizes her aptitude for trapping, binding and freeing. The Mother has a dual nature of the creator and destroyer: on the one hand, she is a breadwinner, a protector, who gives warmth and shelter, and, at the same time, she is a terrible force of destruction, devourer and murderer. She is the creator, the nurse and grave digger of all living things.

"Great Mother. Dictionary of symbols"

1948 year.

_"... have a shower… Yes …a shower. Cool…cold water is just what I need now__". _

Alfred frantically clutches at a tap's valve. His fingers are trembling.

The noise of the water, cool of which he can feel without touch it, is calming.

America took a deep breath, and began to pull off his trousers and underwear. The shirt and jacket has lain on the hall's floor. They were undone in the car already.

Cloth chokes him. So in a hot summer night sweat bedsheets stuck to a whole body - it is so hot and nasty that sometimes you can want to shake out it together with your own skin.

"_Damn, damn, damn it!"_

At first moment cold water had burned no worse than boiling water, and Alfred began to gulp down it greedily.

_"I wish I could see something bloody and awful__,"_ - He wearily pressed his forehead against the wall, allowing water to flow down on his back. - _"I wish I was convinced that this monster is near to the making of own nuclear bomb._"

"Fuck ..." - moaned America. - "I'm such an idiot".

Arthur repeatedly warned him that Russia is absolutely crazy and unpredictable. So as a large portion of these instructions were delivered in the last century, when their relations were not the best, Alfred maintained a healthy skepticism about it. Of course, Ivan looks like somewhat of an eccentric, but Alfred decided that it is just an impression, which was caused the circumstance of striking resemblance of European countries and Russia and, at the same time, them constant differences.

But time has showed that in this subject Arthur was honest. Or was right. It does not matter. The main thing is that Alfred, in general, was following this advice the last 30 years (after the Russian Revolution), waiting for Ivan's tricks, which are inconceivable from the standpoint of ordinary logic and Alfred's ideas about Russia's talents.

But the fact that now America has swallowed water from the tap, can make a chill for himself, showing how in reality was limited his fantasy.

But start was so well!

He managed to get to the Ivan's private rooms, in which the Russian admits trustees only - in the past for reasons of etiquette, now for security.

It is the known fact that Ivan often discusses businesses and makes decisions in such informal place as a kitchen or a bathhouse.

Can he do it in bedroom too?

For a long time Alfred was wringing Francis about it, but he, who usually was an amateur to talk on this topic, in those moments only was mumbling something vague and averting eyes.

Therefore, Alfred decided to make a "reconnaissance in force". Fortunately, the layout of the house was known for him. He learned it from Lithuania at a time when he worked for him. I remember Alfred was surprised that the private chambers of Russia two bedrooms are, which adjacent to each other and not lockable between them. It isn't guest room - they were located in another part of the house, and Ivan never really sleeps with his "minions", preferring to sleep alone. To the question «why have Ivan two bedrooms?" Toris, who was already red as a lobster from answer to the question "Does is the favorites' room?" didn't answer, was running to wash dishes.

Alfred got the keys from a Ludwig - Gilbert managed to make an impression.

When Alfred fined himself in this strange bedroom he was surprised to find that it is nursery. But of course, the real nursery was: with a cradle, light wallpaper, a thick carpet on the floor, a pile of soft toys and rattles, and the embroidered curtains and napkins. And, it was most importantly, there was a real child.

On the contrary, Ivan's bedroom furniture was so austere and simple, what it could rouse envy in the Spartans, and, alas, without any hint at presence of top secret documents or weapons of annihilation. Admittedly, Alfred was disappointed.

The game against Russia excited incredible excitement. Ivan was a worthy opponent. But, it was true; this gamble always was with a tinge of bitterness, as not so long ago both of they were on one side of the front. Weren't their every word being a lie only? Weren't their every step being with poison of duplicity?

Alfred looked in the cradle.

The blond small child in a blue baby's loose jacket was covered with blanket, over which his tiny hand laid in a touching way. America poked at the hand with his finger for make sure of it is not a delusion. The child obviously had not pleased with it - he squirmed and whimpered.

Alfred tried to soothe the child with rocking the cradle, but it was looks like that was not enough. The sobs turned into wails.

In the next room a key turned in the castle.

At first moment America stiffened in a shock. But, fortunately, he in time came to his senses and managed to hide behind a curtain.

Ivan entered the room. But against expectations of Alfred he wasn't in a hurry - in this way he was expecting for a child cry. On another hand, they occupied adjacent rooms... Indeed, Russia began to speak in the manner of Momma, which soothing her offspring. The original voice of Ivan gave strength to this comparison.

- Yes, yes, my dear, mommy is here...

Alfred choked with laughter.

"Momma-Russia, drat!"

- Well, what has happened with us? - Russia obviously in usual manner took the child from the cradle and run over him bottom.

- Here is all right ...

The child, who was quieten for a moment, broke into demanding cry again.

- Yes, of course, it's time to eat. Shh, it will soon. Mother need take off her coat...

The scene, which would be later, could be called ravings of a madman. If Alfred was not a witness himself he never would believe in it.

Holding the baby with one hand, Braginsky with other hand undid and threw off the heavy coat, unbuttoned a uniform, a shirt ... and a bra for nursing mothers, bared pretty breast, although was inferior in the size to his ... her older sister's.

Russia quietly grumbled that the milk again wet a cloth.

Alfred held his own mouth with both hands, when Russia raised the child to her breast, and he caught nipple with his mouth...

«I am lost".

Alfred did not remember how much time passed, and in such a way he climbed out of the Russia's house.

The semblance of awareness came to him on the way home. I must say that to fly a plane in such a state - is a dubious adventure.

Then the shock was replaced a different feeling, from which Alfred tried to escape with the ice shower.

"Like a teenager, who at first saw the women's boobs. Yes, I absolutely didn't expect to find them in Ivan, but still ... But be turned on the sight of a woman nursing a child! Damn, I did not expect it from myself. But she really has so ... so good breast and undoubtedly whole figure, fuuuck! Pretty dumpling. I'd like sucked it with pleasure too. "

He imagined himself these elastic, heavy with milk breasts, with its snow-white skin and large pink nipples, which, it's surely, shows themselves through Russia's clothes from cold or sex excitement ... if, of course, Russia would not wear a heavy thick coat. It seems such a way she protects herself not from the cold only.

"I've never fondled breast of nursing woman. If I would do - it will hurt her? Interestingly, the milk will squirt or flow? Damn, water not helps!"

Perhaps Alfred would laugh to see myself from an outsider's viewpoint. The would-be spy, who like madman run off his enemy's house, now was throwing himself cold water, clung onto his cock, imaging bosom of his opponent, about who Alfred had thought a few hours ago as the manliest man in the world.

Except himself, of course.

- Oh, yes, yes, yes... - He sobs spasmodically, jack off furiously.

Perhaps if there is not water, the relief already has came. Alfred would wash away the traces of his adventures, drink something of warm, fall on a bed and go out like a light.

And in the morning ... in the morning troubles and sorcery always melt...

In the morning the first thing he would have asked himself - who is the child and who is his father?

In the morning he would be comforted myself with the reflection that his… discovery influenced on him so much just because at lately all his thoughts were about the USSR.

This could be a reality...

... Milk is trickling down her pale skin. He is continuing to squeeze one breast; touches a milk road of others with his tongue. The taste should be sweet. He does not know. He never tastes it at maturity, and he does not remember the taste of milk of his mother.

"And who was she? My mother. And why haven't I thought about her? OMG! Now this bitch is more desirable for me even"

Alfred rested his back against the wall.

- I ... I ... I...

He will break her, get her under him, and spear her to her heart... He will catch this stirring nipple with his teeth. He would bite it hard for things, which she did with him. She turned him - the hero,

the embodiment of freedom and fresh air - into a lustful beast, into an arrogant confused teen, into a baby, who only wants to seize into a female body so hard that they can be one again. He are wanting to her bosom - tight and hot as hell oven (in fact Russia is cold only outside, inside she is hot and red) - will burn whole of him with his deeds, fears, dreams and hope ... Then he will become a piece of flesh in her womb, affiliated with the indissoluble bond, and her food will become his food like her joy and sorrow. Or, if he will be reborn into helpless living toy (even smaller and weaker than he was when Arthur found him), he avidly would press his mouth in these teats, and drank, feeling the warmth and softness of her breasts and strong and tender ring of her hands.

Orgasm shook him. Alfred are shouting something, and the bathroom's walls are reverberated with this cry, which is becoming loud with it.

His legs gave way

America fell on the bathtub's bottom. Cold water still is beating him. Breathing heavily and sobbing, he pulled his knees to his chest; was rolling himself up into a ball

Most of all he was shocked by an expression on Russia's face at the peak of his sexual fantasies.

When he was choking with water and screams, in his vision he had been looking at her face. He expected for all - from a wanton, flirtatious, embarrassed smile to an expression of anger and disgust. But she looked at him as the Sistine Madonna by Raphael - seriously and sadly.


End file.
